


To run away with the Kitten

by Arkamos_Aurelius



Category: Demonheart - Fandom, Neverwinter Nights
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15341664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkamos_Aurelius/pseuds/Arkamos_Aurelius
Summary: Sir Brash is unable to sleep and decides to check on the kitty-girl. Chaos ensues. Rated M for mature language.





	To run away with the Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> Author (discord): Arkamos Aurelius#8119  
> Beta (discord): grotesquepanda#0007  
> If you still see any mistakes, they are my own.

Sleep escapes me.

I jerked myself off, but _still_ can’t calm the fuck down. Fucking wench with soft curves in all the right places, and the clothes she wears – _curse the fucking day_ I thought it was a good idea to lend her my spare set. Still convinced the wet pussy lied her ass off, like she did with Jarlan, just to see me squirm with a near constant hard-on. Does the girl even realize the effect she has on the opposite sex? _Why the hell am I even asking such a dumb question?_ Of course, the cunt does. She’s hardly stupid, for a weak ass kitten from a small city of idiotic pussycats. Should have expected that when I agreed to train her. Thought I would have my fun: get a fair share of eye-candy for the trouble and have a chance to grope her, just to see the silly thing flush in embarrassment, give up and run the fuck away, like most maidens in her position would do. But no. She couldn’t allow that, because the kitty-girl had to take this shit seriously, like a day or two of a workout, even with a decent teacher instead of a dickless moron, can make all the fucking difference. _It wouldn’t_. She’ll still die when the wind will blow on her the wrong way. The girl has no place on a fucking battlefield, and I think she knows it better than anyone, so the kitten had to _fucking try_ and make herself more than _utterly useless_. And while I admire her courage and resilience – _fuck_ , even Jarlan was impressed, and it doesn’t happen often – it would be better for everyone involved if she simply knew her place and did jack shit, till the time is right. Maybe I should stuff the sassy cunt in a bag and take her directly to the despicable hag, just to save myself the headache it would cause to have the girl near for a prolonged period of time.

I still remember the way she looked the last time I saw her – and I made absolutely fucking sure that our paths wouldn’t cross till the day is over by going to the forest to kill some shit; If only just to get the image of the girl sweaty and breathless and _so fucking desirable_ out of my system. All the adrenaline from the fighting didn’t really help much – made me hornier, than anything else. So I jacked off to the thought of her warm, wet mouth over my cock, licking it, sucking the accursed flesh with abandon, because it’s a much better use for it over anything, really. The things she does to me by simply existing… I haven’t experienced such intense lust towards anyone in the last year or so. Why the fuck do I have to feel this way over a dead cat walking? Can’t have my way with her, because it is beneath me to screw around with a cunt I’ll ultimately murder, even if it’s the bitch Rivera who’ll deal the killing blow. The whore is dead as a doornail, regardless of her nature as a demonheart, and the fact that she doesn’t realize it, can’t realize it without me spilling my guts out in a confession of things to come is driving me _fucking insane_. I feel like a bloody caged animal, restless and constantly on edge, and the pussycat hasn’t done anything to rile me up, other than snark a lot, then smile and look breathtakingly beautiful. It is a crime for a slut straight out of prison to look this gorgeous; the girl should be malnourished, ugly and a miserable wench – hardly fuckable at all – not have an attractive, enticing appearance that shot a lightning bolt of desire straight to my loins the moment I laid my eyes on her. And she’s a fucking firehead to boot. I like my whores with red hair, goddamnit. Why the fuck does this girl have to be the perfect little kitten for me? _Why?!_

Fuck it all, I have to see her, _I have to_. It is night, so she must be asleep already – the perfect opportunity to observe the silly girl without all the sass and provocation on her part such an action would usually involve. I stand up from the bedroll, as it is obvious I won’t get any sleep tonight, quickly get dressed, and, lastly, fasten my sword to my back.

“Goin’ somewhere, Brashy?” Jarlan hoarsely inquires, being woken by all the clanking noise my armor makes.

“Yeah. Going to take a piss.” I lie, having no intention to explain the real reason of my sudden insomnia.

“ _Sure_.” The midget laughs. “Don’t forget to shove a rag into ‘er mouth before ya fuck ‘er or the wench will wake the whole damn camp with her mewling.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I bite out and scowl.

Now that he said it out loud, I can’t get the image out of my mind: the girl, half-delirious from lust, screaming my name in throes of passion, with my dick buried deep in the folds of her wet, inviting pussy, begging for release, to fill her barren cunt with my hot seed. The thought alone makes me half-erect, and I take in a shuddering, deep breath, then bitterly curse, as walking with a hard-on in heavy armor is excruciatingly uncomfortable.

“Ya got it bad, Brashy boy. Go, get it out of ya system.” The fellow knight teases, making my fingers itch with intent to pummel his head into the ground. But the both of us are aware that I will do no such thing, so I throw an insulted look in his direction – at which the man snickers in amusement once more – then stomp off in the direction of the campfire, before the midget says something else of such nature, forcing me to get myself off, _again_ , because there’s _no way in hell_ I’ll get _anywhere near_ the kitten while half-mad from desire. I’ll just fuck her senseless, regardless of her consent or my own principles, like I nearly did after the moronic excuse for a training we had, and to hell with the consequences. The poor cunt can hate me, I don’t care. Should have thought of that, before she opened her silly mouth – not every man here has the patience of a saint and the discipline to keep it in their pants, and her constant impudence only stokes the flames of the dark thoughts we have at the mere sight of the girl.

My emotions are a fine mess; I need to calm down, so after I get away from Jarlan, I take several deep breaths of the cold, night air, forcing myself to _fucking relax already_. That’s when I hear it, in the complete silence, common to the forest after the sun goes down: a panicked yelp of a wench, then the rustle of the fabric in apparent struggle, then a pained groan of a guy.

I feel my blood run cold, like I was hit with a fucking mace to the face. That’s the direction the kitten is sleeping! What the fuck is happening over there?

My mind is running over all the possibilities of things going wrong, while I sprint over there, like the fucking demons of Inferno are hot on my tail, hoping against hope that _whatever the fuck happened_ , the girl is alright, unharmed physically as well as mentally. Because if _she’s not_ …

It takes little time before I run up to the tent she usually sleeps near, and what I see makes me experience a gut-churning wrath I haven’t felt in a long while: the ugly fuck of a man I’ve seen making passes at the girl, rolling in the dirt with his hands over his cock, muttering curses and glaring at the kitten with tears in his eyes. Even an idiot would understand _instantly_ what the fuck he attempted to do. I glance at the kitty-girl, to make sure that the fucking asshole didn’t hurt her, and find her not so much paralyzed with the terror in the aftermath of a rape attempt, as really pissed off and on guard, with a cold, calculating gaze in her hazel eyes and a silly excuse for a sword that she used in training with me in her right hand.

The fuck! I can scarcely believe it – the cunt looks to be considering whether or not she should finish him off. So, the girl really is the killer, huh? Wouldn’t really think so, considering how soft and weak the kitten is, but looks can be deceiving – I know it better than anyone. Still, she shouldn’t dirty her pretty hands, not with this.

I take a step forward, unsheathing my blade in a practiced move, then go down on one knee and drive it through the bastard’s neck deep into his torso. He makes a funny gurgling noise and twitches in agony, but it is too late to struggle for a life over and done with, and a moment later the man is dead to the world, unable to harm anyone, much less the kitty-girl. Good riddance, I say.

I stand up and shake the sword with several fast slashing motions, trying to get rid of the filthy blood of the horny mongrel. Some of it ended up on me, and I frown, then spit on the corpse and give the bastard a hard kick to the ribs, making him fall face-first in the mud. Fucking shitstone. If the piss-for-brains was so suicidal, he should have just jumped on his own knife, instead of making me do all the nasty work. Now the kitten will be frightened, like any good girl in her place should be.

I reach for the wench, intent on catching the silly thing, so that she won’t go running through the camp, screaming bloody murder. The girl backs away and considers me for a moment, and then the look in her eyes changes from the sharp hardness of a woman, prepared to fight for her life, to a sudden softness, like the sight of me, covered in blood of another, having just killed a man in rage, brings her a sense of peace. How fucked up is that?

I freeze, as the kitty-girl comes to a conclusion, takes a step forward and hugs me tightly, burying her pretty red head in my chest. I tremble, whether in the mind-breaking fury following a murder that didn’t bring with it any satisfaction or whether in an attempt to fight off this sudden urge to grab her tightly and just hold her in my crushing, painful embrace – I do not know.

But one thing is clear as day for me: _no more_. If she stays here, another of those cocksucking bastards may think it a good idea to explore the sweet confines of her tight pussy, or the fucking scorching heat of her mouth that makes me go weak in the knees as I imagine it around my pulsing, eager for release from this never-ending torment, dick. And the kitty-girl is mine; _mine to fuck around with,_ should I desire it, for as long as the foolish pussycat draws breath. No other man will touch nor taste her, _for as long as I fucking live_. The thought of such a possibility alone makes me wish to kill every male in the vicinity, just to rid myself of the trouble of having to do them one by one. Aside from Jarlan, of course, the midget wouldn’t be foolish enough to lay a finger on what I consider my property. But _no_ , even driven mad to such an extent from lust, I understand that the soldiers can do nothing about their own animalistic nature: the fault lies with the cunt, as a battlefield is no place for a cute wench. I have to take her away, right here and right now, before things escalate further and some poor fuck will pointlessly die, _again_.

Having reached that resolution, I grab the girl’s soft, silky hair with my hand, dragging her head away from my chest, and bring my parched lips close to her ear to whisper, punctuating every word I say: “Get your things and come with me.”

That brings her out of whatever bliss she felt at having escaped the harm upon her person. The kitty-cat takes one swift step back and looks at me with blatant suspicion written all over her pretty face.

“Where?”

“ _Wherever I fucking say_. We’re leaving.” I hiss in frustration.

Can’t she fucking read the situation? It takes everything I have in me just to hold myself back. One wrong word and I’ll just put her in a sack, then carry the wench deep into the forest, kicking and screaming if I have to. _Her opinion doesn’t matter_. I say she goes, and the whore must answer with a quick ‘Yes, Sir’ and a complete obedience, not bitch and bicker at me, and definitely not ask stupid questions.

“But… it’s dark.” She says with confusion and an infuriating pout.

Fuck it. _I’m done with her bullshit_.

“Be quiet and move!” I growl menacingly, grab her wrist with a strong, nearly bruising grip so that the girl will understand that she has no chance for escape, and walk away from the fire, stopping just long enough to pick up the small bag with what little possessions kitten has after prison. Everything I need I have on me, as for everything else… Jarlan will take care of it. Of course, the short knight will nearly die from laughing to the point of wheezing first, having found me missing from the camp in the morning, because I ran away with a wench like a _fucking pubescent boy_ , unable to keep his dick on a leash.

Thankfully, the girl doesn’t try to fight me off. Her compliance and unusual silence raises more questions, but _fuck it_ , I’ll take it as it is, because I don’t want to think about the possible answers, not right now. So I drag her further into the darkness of the forest, unconsciously increasing my pace to the point the both of us have to run. Only when I feel that the wench can’t keep up _at all_ did I stop, and only because I’m exhausted too; I may have the rigorous training of a knight and the constitution of a beast, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get tired after rushing in a hurry for what must have been half an hour in heavy armor, without proper rest.

“See? You don’t need to sleep,” I tease, breathing loudly, half-turned away from her.

 _Fucking hell_. The more I think about it, the more this whole situation seems absurd: me, running away with a weak-ass, _useless_ pussycat, just because some sick fuck tried to use her as a sheath for his prick. What the heck was I thinking? Trying to act possessive and protect the peace of mind of a witch’s sacrifice. I smile grimly at my own foolishness. Just when I thought I can’t fall lower, the fucking bitch makes me discover new, ugly sides of myself.

But all of that doesn’t matter, not really. It’s not like I _need_ any of them to fulfill my role in this farce. Regardless of what happened, I still have to drag the wench to Rivera. Might as well do so without all the other idiots getting in my way.

Just when I thought about it, the girl finally stops breathing like a flayed alive, nearly dead cat, and bites out an answer to my scathing remark.

“I’m dead-tired, _Sir_. The one who obviously doesn’t favor sleeping is _you_.”

I merrily laugh, unable to help myself. Only the kitty-girl can address me with a respectful honorific, but make it sound like she’s fucking around with me. Goddamn, insolent brat. Maybe I should spank her; it would be amusing to see the girl’s reaction to that turn of events.

“Oh, I love to sleep in my apartment in the Knight’s Palace. I’m trying to finish this and be back there as soon as possible.”

She frowns and looks at me with that damn calculating gaze I’m starting to hate, because it usually means the cunt will tell me something I won’t like.

“Isn’t it too early to go after Rivera?”

Well, as far as questions go, this one isn’t so bad. From _her_ , I expected worse.

“Yeah, but we can stay in the lodge with the fucking watchers, when we reach the place. At least the watchers won’t be trying to stick their cocks in you.”

Because if they do, I’ll just fucking murder the lot of them without any hint of regret. They’re not soldiers under my direct command, their existence has no practical use for me or the Lord I serve, so I don’t give a flying fuck whether they are alive or dead. They cross me or those under my protection – they die, it’s as simple as that.

“Hey. Not to sound rude or ungrateful bitch, but… why did you protect me from that man?” She crosses her arms, while looking directly at me, unafraid and genuinely curious to hear my answer.

Why the fuck does the cunt need me to spell it out? Isn’t it obvious? Unless…

“Why, did you want to fuck him?” I inquire coldly, unamused. The girl did hit the filthy dog in the sack, but who the fuck knows; maybe that’s her sick idea of foreplay. I wouldn’t be surprised, with all the weird shit my sis has in her life, I know that some wenches get a kick out of crap like that.

“What? _No!_ Stop being _an ass_ , Brash.” The kitten snorts, like she found my question amusing.

I want to bark at her with some ruthless retort for the silly girl’s cheek, but what actually came out of my mouth are my real feelings on the matter:

“Well, how can you ask why I protected you? I didn’t want you more abused than you already are.” I frown and look away. “I need you for a practical task, unbroken.”

“Aww, that’s _sweet_ of you.” The kitten chuckles and gives me a beautiful, trusting smile that that makes me come undone at the amount of shit I feel at the sight of it.

I have a moronic idea, but why the fuck not, I already made an ass out of myself today, might as well do so again.

I search my pockets until I find what I was looking for.

“Here, have this.” I take her hand and put a ring in her palm. “It’s some witch’s shit that I took from a convict a while back in Scarcewall. Fancy thing, but I don’t trust witches.”

I _know_ it’s safe to wear and has some protective properties, _I checked_ : I wouldn’t just randomly drag around potentially dangerous witch crap. But I don’t want to use it myself, and meant to sell the fucking thing, as it’s pretty enough and _golden_ , so it should pay for a night at the tavern with as much mead as I can stuff into myself.

But, well, I wouldn’t mind giving it to her. She’s a weak-ass kitten, and while I’m sure that I can protect her lovely butt, I don’t want to see the girl hurt, even if she’s a fucking demonheart like me, so, at worst, she’ll just get a nasty scar, but that’s about it.

The girl studies the ring with obvious interest, turning it in her little fingers to scrutinize the patterns engraved on it.

“Don’t let it get to your head that you heal better than normal people.” I add, unable to stand the silence. “If they hit you hard, you _could_ get crippled. If they hit you with fire, even worse.”

That brings her attention back to me instantly, again with suspicion. Smart girl.

“How do you know?”

From personal experience, but I can’t say that: it’ll open a can of worms I’m not ready to deal with. So I go for the second-best answer.

“Lord Mace. He had a few accidents in his day.” And before she can ask any more, I gesture for her to stay quiet. “I wasn’t supposed to speak of it, so I don’t want to hear you repeating it. _Is that clear?_ ” The question is said with a threatening growl, just to bring the point across. From my observations of the kitty-girl, I haven’t seen her blabber uselessly, like most wenches do, but one can never be sure.

I see her eyes widen with realization of the true meaning of my words, the shock such information brings with it, but the kitten quickly recovers and nods.

“Okay. Thank you for the ring.”

I turn away, ready to continue the walk to the watcher’s lodge, as we rested enough while talking, but then I hear her giggle.

“Hey. Is this a secret engagement?”

What. _Of all the idiotic things to say…_

I swiftly turn back, ready to dish out a scathing comment about intellectual incompetency of young cunts, but her happy smile disarms me. I feel like I was punched in the gut, so I take a deep breath and try to force myself not to overthink this shit. She’s a whore, just toying with my feelings, like many foolish dumb sluts before her tried to do. No real reason to get myself worked up over _any fucking thing_ she says.

Still, I can’t help the hopeful question that escapes me, as I frown:

“Would you like that?”

The girl shrugs, like I’m asking her about the weather, not a lifelong commitment. _The fuck._

“Dunno. Maybe.”

I bark out a laugh. I can’t help it, it’s so fucking funny.

“That would sort things out for you, wouldn't it? What's a few beatings you would probably receive from a guy like me, compared to the power, infamy and of course your freedom?”

“Hmm. Freedom sounds fine, and I have no need for the other two.” The kitten rolls her eyes in annoyance, like it was me who was behaving like a dumb fuck. “And you don’t strike me as abusive kind. You’re fucked up, that I can agree with, but from my observations, you can also be a sweetheart when you actually want to be.” The girl raises her hand to stop me when I try to butt in and vehemently deny the absurd shit she’s saying. “But mostly, I said that because you’ve got a handsome mug, so why the hell not? Can’t be worse than the poor fucker who left me to rot in jail, because having a convict girl for a bride hurt his social standing.”

I have no words to answer this utter _bullshit_. _Handsome?_ Does the girl have _fucking eyes_ , or were they irreparably damaged in the aftermath of her head being chopped off? I know perfectly well that my face is horribly scarred, to the point that no wench would allow me to fuck her, if not for me forcing my way on them with money and silly crap those cheap sluts love, ready to suck any cock for a proper price.

And that’s not even trying to bring up the rest of my hopelessly damaged body into the picture, along with my _charming_ personality that makes most wenches run for the hills, should they step out of line for a second.

She’s insane. There’s no other explanation. The months the girl spent in prison broke her mind. If not that, then the beheading itself. Or being ditched by that dickless coward, _I don’t know_. But she’s madder than anyone I have ever met, and I know _Rivera_.

This poor kitten is going to be the death of me, isn’t she?

I turn back and stomp off, having no intention of continuing this idiotic conversation, but not before I mutter the last thing that comes to my shaken mind:

“Looks like they didn’t fuck you hard enough in that jail.”


End file.
